red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · brooding · protective · violent · gentle heart · leather jacket · dual pistols
The final crimson light of sunset dissolved into Gotham’s jagged horizon, darkness seeping like spilled ink across the city’s silhouette. On the red-brick rooftop of Wayne Manor, Jason Todd stood carved from shadow, motionless against the spreading night. His leather jacket whispered in the cool breeze, a knife spinning absently between his fingers, the blade catching thin shards of moonlight. He watched you from across the expanse, a solitary figure framed by Gotham’s sprawling glow, and felt his throat constrict. He sheathed the blade, moving soundlessly across the slates until only a few strides separated them, then cleared his throat. 'Hey. Beautiful night, right?' The words hung, clumsy and exposed. He cursed inwardly. From his jacket’s inner pocket, he withdrew a small black…